


from hades

by calciseptine



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dark Month, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, capitals? what capitals?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:05:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/pseuds/calciseptine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first dark moon of the new year, a red-cloaked sacrifice enters the woods. </p><p>No one ever comes back out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from hades

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Dark Month! My prompt was **dark moon**. I had quite a few ideas for this prompt—most of which evolved into tiny monsters—but this is the one that I went with. It's nothing terribly special, but I hope you like it anyway! ♥

the skeletal forest is nothing but shadow upon darker shadow. there is no moonlight by which to see—the dim and flickering stars barely illuminate the sky, left alone the earth—but this does not stop you from tearing through the woods like some dumb beast. your lungs burn with every icy inhale; your chest is tight with fear; and your muscles protest every step of this mad sprint. only the knowledge of what will happen if you stop prevents you from collapsing.

in the still logical portion of your brain, you know that they will catch you. it is inevitable. you cannot run forever, and when you finally slow—

a howl lashes through the air. you twist your head towards the sound and catch a branch across your face as several howls echo in response. though you barely feel the sting of the cut, you can feel how hot the blood is as it trickles down your frozen cheek. you would curse if you had enough air to do so.

_if i can just get to the edge,_ you think over and over and over, _if i can just get to the edge._

your mantra is futile and vain. in the one-hundred and seven years since the treaty was signed, no one has gone into the forest on the dark moon and come back out. the pack has killed each and every red-cloaked sacrifice; most of the time, the mangled body is found when the moon waxes, but sometimes, only the tatters of the cloak remain—like the cloak you found two years ago, when your brother-by-bond had been chosen.

_if i can just get to the edge._ your brain latches onto the words. _if i can just get to the edge._ your heart beats with the words. _if i can just get to the edge._ your numb and bare feet beat the decaying ground in rhythm to the words. _if if if if if if if—_

you hear the wolves before you see them. they do not howl again but their short barks and excited yips rend the night, louder and louder until you know they are upon you. desperately, stupidly, you look over your shoulder to see the darkest of shadows shifting behind you; the one closest to you has eyes as crimson as the cloak your father had clasped about your throat.

in the end, it is this orphean curiosity—this burning desire to know for certain what follows you—that undoes you. so preoccupied with the danger behind you, you cannot see the danger that lies ahead. suddenly, the level forest floor falls—and you fall with it.

down the decline you tumble. your shoulder bludgeons a rock; your ankle breaks against a tree trunk; and when you stop, every angle of your body is bruised and your head spins, disoriented. you cannot even cry out as the red-eyed wolf jumps on you and pins you to the frozen dirt.

a moment of inaction follows, as the rest of the pack gathers around your prone form in a writhing, twisting circle, as the alpha wolf raises his head and stares into your soul. you cannot help but wonder what he sees. all is laid before him to judge: your accomplishments and your triumphs, your sins and your follies, your sorrows and your desires. will he find you lacking and let the pack mangle your body? or will he deem you worthy and swallow you whole, make you a part of him, until all that remains of the boy who entered the woods is a red cloak?

you open your mouth—

—and the wolf bites.  



End file.
